


In-between

by Whaler



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dark Past, Hanamura (Overwatch), M/M, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Spirits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whaler/pseuds/Whaler
Summary: The next omnic crysis hit the world out of nowhere, destroyed all the major cities and the headquarters of the major organisation in one day.Hanzo, Jesse and some others survived the attack but now they are without shelter and backup in the middle of a war with a dying dragon, broken souls and unresolves issues.The only place left to go turned to be Hanamura, where they first met and where their past started.This story is almost done in my native, I'm translating it slowly. The chapters are way too long to put up whole so every chapter will be a few separate post.The story is in two POW and two timelines: the continous present sparkled with ismportant episodes from the past.





	1. Chapter 1 part 1 (Hanzo)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so this is a work I swore not to translate... but I just liked to write it too much to leave it in the box, so...
> 
> Anyway, this is first part of first chapter. Past with italic present with normal. First chapter is Hanzo POV

There has been something in the air since months, they’d felt it, heard it from the whispers around the globe but couldn’t ever reach it, like they’d been always one step behind.  Sometimes he would have the alarming feeling he should pay more attention. It was happening, it’d been happening for a time now, but it had been like the ember under fallen leaves: hidden, only heat and smoke emerging from various places until the flames flickered.  The reemerging omnics conflict in England, the anti-omnics milicist in South-Africa, the radio silence from the Middle-East all had been disturbing. Leaders were stepping down, extremists got lauder, new technologies spread with an alarming speed had been off-putting. And all this together felt sinister. Then somebody offered the re-negotiation of the Petras Act for Winston’s and Jack's utmost bewilderment.

This all made him uneasy too, kept his eyes open, made him to watch the rumors and talk to old connections. Everybody seemed to know something and nobody knew anything concrete. That made it all more confusing, and still Jack was fighting his own battles, Winston tried to keep the team together, Phara was after her mother, the youngsters after the renegade omnics and Talon. And as for himself… he had his own shit.

He had been out there that afternoon meditating on the warm roof in the soft sunset listening to the rumble of the ocean and the quarrel of seagulls breathing in the salty breeze. He spent a few hours there every so often, far from the others, alone with his thoughts and demons. This calmed him when he felt falling to pieces -- or rather clawing himself to pieces. He felt mostly on edge these days, always at the brink of shattering, sometimes even breathing felt hard due to the dragons and he would’ve blamed the spirit if he wasn’t blaming himself.

A never ending… He would’ve liked to call it a fight like back at the days, but it hasn’t been one for a long time now. The Dragon was dying, leaving the last claw marks on his soul. Bad and worse days followed each other, sometimes decent, and he hadn’t even felt tired anymore just hollow, irritable and resigned. He would’ve wished to just lay down and wait for it to pass until… He sighed.

It’s been a promise to Genji not to think like that.

The ocean, the wind and the frequent storms tranquilized the spirit, made it content temporarily, loose, so he could adore the quiet occasionally. His spirit was lying on the roof near him – small, thin, sick looking -- stretched out in the sunlight almost like a cat,  the two part chirping softly.

Only at times like this he felt like he could actually breathe and adored these moments.

That particular day hasn’t been that bad actually and he was thinking about having dinner with his brother and Zen. Genji insisted and he found himself not resisting that much lately. The situation between them hadn’t been resolved but maybe they were working some shit out. He wondered briefly if McCree is alright.

He looked up to the setting sun above the calm ocean and he saw it, the Dragon sensed the danger too, lifted its head, planted its claws into his soul. He stood up grabbing his bow, watching the two small things on the sky a hand over his eyes. He recognized them almost like an instinct and his gut clenched.

_But what were you expecting? Balancing on the edge, challenging fate, assuming too much, going too far, having Overwatch at all… you coming here, haven’t you destroyed enough?_

The sirens of the base roared up, red lights blinked everywhere. The air defense should’ve been working, so the shields, but they’ve been still in hiding technically, the base haven't been active in the last two years due to the Petras and now there stood nothing between them and destruction.

He run, tried to get away, climb down the walls, but he couldn’t be fast enough, couldn’t run down fucking bombs – and they hit the base. The explosion throw him down from the high ground, his body slammed into the grass and stones surrounding the buildings near the cliffs. The pain, heat and sound darkened his mind with the last thoughts about the edge and abyss being dangerously close, his head hurting and heat washing through him. He has just seen the shockwave  tear the storage room above him apart like it was paper spreading metal pieces around. The Dragon was howling, trying to make him move but then the darkness quelled the pain.

 

* * *

## 

“ _Young Master! Young Master wake up!”_

_Cold water soaked him and a metallic hand patted his face. Everything hurt, he was lying on his back - has fallen, he realized - and couldn’t see or hear anything in the dark room. The omnic of course wasn’t breathing, and even those cold metallic hands felt dangerous, alien and offensive. The dragon wanted to bite it, wanted to conquer over him like an animal that protects its territory. He felt it rising, felt it tighten its grasp around him and he couldn’t feel his legs but the pain of everything else has been overwhelming, and the dragon tried to use his body as a puppet. As a monster. In that dark room. Ha has fallen._

_“Young Master wake up! Call the doctor! What are you waiting for?!”_

 

* * *

## 

He has been unconscious only for a few minutes - he guessed. A crumpled piece of metal has sank into the ground beside him and his body was hurting, throbbing as if had been crushed. A stray metal piece could’ve nailed him easily to the ground too, but he has been lucky and managed to stand up with difficulty among the debris in black smoke. His head was hurting, could hardly breathe, the pain in his side and chest felt like something indeed went through him and there was blood as he touched it. It felt hard to breath, hard to stand, the prosthetic legs kept him up, but wouldn’t have been able to stand up without the Dragon.

He gathered his bow and looked around: flaming rubbish covered the ground around him, part of the cliff collapsed into the sea just a few feet away where he stood, the metal walls of the storage surrounding the main building and the parking lot got bended in the shockwave, through the lacerations of the metal he could see the burning main building. Dark smoke filled the whole complex, made it hard to breath, hart to cough with his injuries and hard to make out what exactly was left of their base. Except that there was no roof where it had been, the huge windows of the control room shattered and hardly any wall left. He could hear nothing outside the ringing of his ears, but he _felt_ the sound, felt the shaking of the ground.

 _Your brother is dying. You’re killing him again._ The voices had sharp teeth and scales in his mind. The dragon was scratching under his skin in agony.

_They’re dead. Died, all of them._

He fought his way through the torn storage wall quenching his teeth as pain rushed through his body. The wall facing the main building was pushed to the back by the shockwave but he has been lucky enough to fall behind the storage of the rescue equipment and get himself a gasmask and a fireproof jacket.

He run out through the other side where the walls were missing and the roof bent down. In the dark smoke only the flames served any brightness so he run from memory. A patch of blue caught his eyes looking up for a second – Fareeha. It gave only a heartbeat of relief before he rushed through the hole once the main gate. He couldn’t see shit in the dark and flames, his skin burned where not covered by the jacket. A sonic arrow got shot out but no waves or lifesigns were visible in the thick smoke. The darkness reminded him of the dark room and the dragon screamed in his head.

_You leaving them to fall. Leaving them too to die like…_

I’m not leaving.

_You’ve left too many times to matter._

He closed his eyes, fought the voices. The dragon must be used, it was weak though, at the verge of breaking. Suffering. If something happens to Genji, if he can’t save the others...

He used the dragon’s vision to see through the smoke, find a path among the debris, broken walls and sparkling  wires. The great hall was blocked entirely, part of the floors above collapsed in an ark. Climbing was the only way up through very narrow paths where he couldn't have moved with his bow, so he left that behind only bringing the sonic arrows with him. He climbed four floor worth of debris through flames and hot, sharp metal before he found a hole big enough to push through.

The inner side was even worse: whatever crashed into the base part of it landed here bashing through all the floors leaving ruins and a giant hole behind through the black smoke was pouring toward the sky. Four storey collapsed onto anyone fleeing through there. The warm air herded everything upward so near the ground one almost could see.

He climbed down, looked for the stairs leading to the basement, to the living quarters where Genji must have been but a familiar form caught his gaze.

An armor.

Reinhardt.

His heart sank. Not Reinhardt, please not him. That huge man with an even bigger heart, one of the really few honest men here, whos only motivation has ever been to help others – only such man here and he liked and respected him for that. The dragon did too.

There was only the head and an arm reaching out from under the debris, but the knight was still alive, tried to somehow get his helmet off. He stopped him grabbing the hand, tried to calm him, but couldn’t. He gave up, there was very much dried black, dried blood around them. Helped the giant to pull down the helmet and only then did he see that the man was talking. He still couldn’t hear anything beyond the ringing in hes earn.

The pain filled eyes looked up at him desperately, the colorless lips formed words on the bloodloss white face: Brigitte, Torb. He smashed the tip of a sonic arrow into the debris, the waves showed the contours of the knight’s body almost teared in half by a floorpiece, his hand holding the shield once stuck between his chest and debris in an unnatural position smashed to shards without question and where the wings of the shield have been two small forms lied crushed to death.

He looked back at the knight, the eyes turning to him with trust and openness now looked back desperate and dying. He saw the giant in his memories laughing with his mates, swinging that hammer, slamming that shield down to protect, drinking beer outside with him. He was a simple man, simple and honest, the only one he really trusted here. Now there was blood trickling from his mouth, nose and ears, he didn’t know where he was anymore, what was happening but still searching for the others. The sorrow stinged.

He took his mask off for the man to see his face.

“They are not here Rein” He couldn’t hear his own voice and just hoped he can actually be heard. “They are fine now, you’ve fought well my friend.” He took the man's face in his hand, the skin was darkened with grim and blood above the white. “You’ve lived with honor and can die with glory, they will be proud.”

A weak, dumb smile spread over his face, the calmness of death, the lips moved – he said goodbye. The sorrow hit him like the hammer and he needed seconds just to be able to think again.

Overwatch hasn’t been family, hasn’t been anything really, but a shadow of what it once possibly was and still… friends he lost again, a place he lost again. Stability, he was losing that again, the dragon was raging under his skin, clawing and biting and for that weak, dying spirit this may have been fatal.

_You lied to him._

And he still had a brother to find.

 

* * *

 

 

_Winston and Reinhardt joined him in the canteen. The young agents and those who felt themself young enough were playing volleyball outside in the heat of the afternoon, but the more comfortable ones pulled themself inside to the cool rooms of the Gibraltar base. He had only been there for a few days, not speaking much to anyone, but knowing everything worth knowing about the agents from their records, his old informants and  Genji’s stories._

_He made room in the box when the two giants halted at the table asking to join._

_"Nobody should drink alone" Reinhardt explained sitting down with higher decibels than necessary._

_“It's just tea.”_

_“Japanese specialty?” Winston adjusted his glasses. "I've heard a lot about Japan and the tea ceremonies, I've always been impressed, but I never got to try it," he explained, pointing to his huge, heavy paws._

_"The ceremony is too long for casual tee, this's just a tee leaf and hot water, but it's what I’d drank at home, yes.”_

_Winston asked if he could get some so he prepared a cup for both, while the two senior told him stories about old missions, personal adventures and blunders. It took some time to feel comfortable, but after that they weren’t exactly unpleasant company._

_He generally felt uncomfortable among strangers -- and among not-exactly-strangers too --, that he never grew out of. Childhood isolation and strictness made its way to his adult personality and  it showed: he tried to keep everybody at arm's length, outside the walls and away from himself. Too much talk and ties bothered him. It wasn’t natural – or practical in most cases --, but not really something he could just change on a whim-- and the almost ten years of  constant escaping didn’t improve anything either. Although he learned to handle it very well, making an advantage of it if needed._

_At home, in Hanamura, he spent half his life negotiating and figuring out who was planning what against who and why. He knew how to be civilized, how to deal and talk with people, how to get what he wanted from them, but he hadn’t had the will anymore. Here, in this fake freedom, away from everything, fighting with what’s left of him, fading away slowly, here he had enough, here he loathed to pretend anymore. Fake smiles smelled like home and that just hurted too much._

_Genji warned him, that he wouldn’t make friends being this raw,. He hadn’t come there to make friends._

_"It’s very pleasant" Winston said tasting the tee._

_"Just wait until I get you a good German Wheizenbier, you haven’t tasted anything worth tasting until that!" Reinhardt laughed, already scheming about how to make his friends drunk and with what. Upon this he remembered a story from his active knight's years about a brewery they protected during the omnics crisis. It was a fun anecdote about differently difficult times, though it seemed from Winston's wandering looks that he hadn’t heard it for the first time._

_“Let's hear something from you, Hanzo!” the gorilla turned to him making him cautious and guarded immediately._

_“I'm afraid I have nothing to tell you.”_

_“Nonsense! You've been fighting for many years now and even before then!” Reinhardt joined in. “One of the most interesting past here!”_

_This made him remember to cold and darkness. Drank a sip of tea. He would’ve called his past anything but interesting._

_But then he shrugged. “You know the most famous story already”. The one in which he gutted his brother._

_Reinhardt and Winston were members of the first Overwatch team even back then, they were among those who gathered Genji's more than half-dead body and offered to rebuild him in exchange for shutting down his clan. Hanzo’s clan, not his. His younger brother never wanted to have anything to do with the whole yakuza family legacy thing, only with the wealth. He didn’t blame him anymore._

_"Yes," Winston said a bit uncomfortable. "we do know that one, but we've heard many more things that happened after that and I'm sure there's still more where those came from.”_

_“Nothing that could compete with the brewery.”_

_Reinhardt grinned. "There will be thenceforth then, much glorious combat!" he slapped the table. "Starting tomorrow no less, you’ll come with us to Ilios to cover our backs.”_

_“So soon?” he raised an eyebrow. Not even a week has passed since he arrived there._

_"What should we be waiting for?" Winston grinned. “Reinhardt saw your shooting the other day and he is rarely so impressed.”_

_“Great shooting is an asset as long as you don’t get an arrow in the back.”_

_“But will we get one?” The gorilla looked at him seriously. "I say you are ally until you prove otherwise. We trust you.”_

_“A foolish act surely.”_

_“You don't trust us?”_

_“I don't trust anybody who trusts me." At this Reinhardt laughed, slapping him on the back so hard he was knocked onto the table leftover tee spilling from the cup. The giant knight apologized sheepishly, hands held high, and Winston tried to suppress a smile that made his face turn into a bizarre grimace; while he frowned wiping the liquid with a napkin._

_"Nevertheless, my friend” Reinhardt continued “Don’t you think for a moment that you’re the only one with the criminal past among us!"_

_As if waiting for the line a sweaty, sandy shouldered Jesse McCree entered the canteen hair stuck to his forehead armor and outer missing, shirt tied around his waist. He poured water from the tap._

_“Howdy?” he grinned to the two giants, but his smile faltered when he saw him._

_Somewhere here had this section of Hanzo's life begun._

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 1 part 2 (Hanzo)

## 

Something moved behind his back - he’s felt it rather than saw it from the rhythmic trembling, the slide of the debris around him. As he looked back something huge was moving above his head. He stood, had no weapon, the dragon was too shaken by Rein’s death to be any useful. Now looking around again he realized although something hit the base has broken through many floors, caused fire and destruction it may has not been only explosives. He couldn’t hear a fife but scanned the upper parts covered by the smoke and flames relentlessly only this has saved his life as something big from up above started shooting at him ripping up the floor where he’s been standing just a second ago.

He took cover behind a big chunk of the second floor while the thing crawled lower. It was an unmarked but undoubtedly military grade machine, a new type, developed by the Chinese for mountain warfare, but used mainly by the Middle African metropolises. He had seen it many times climbing up on buildings where helicopters or snipers couldn’t reach the targets. It was a menace, a one machine army with long legs, mobility, stability and a fire power enough for a small city. He stood, the machine would see him with its infra anywhere and he couldn’t hear where it moved. Whoever attacked the base hated them something intense sending a weapon like this.

The machine easily jumped through the smoke filled burning remnants of the main hall to face him again behind his cover, the guns on it’s shoulder turned against him, so he run, pushed his way through the two front legs of it. He had nothing with he could’ve fought it, his side bleed and pulsated where that something has hit him in the explosion. The machine moved again, the tracks the bullet left in the metal followed him. There was no cover strong enough and the spay would have holed him if a sudden shield doesn’t stops the bullets.

It was Orisa behind him talking for sure but his hearing still lacked, she shot the machine, another ray of bullets came from a sentry Bastion. They had shot themselves an entrance through the debris. The two omnics diverted the machines attention which now shot for Bastion, the Orisa shield just have been fast enough while the massive girl pushed him toward the makeshift entrance.

He looked back, saw Bastion changing his position Orisa activating her armor and shooting relentlessly, but she was right, he could do nothing, not like this. They needed to get out of there as fast as possible. Genji and Zen still being somewhere down there in danger felt like a heavy stone on his shoulders, the dragon dug its nails into his soul. He run and climbed through the floors where Orisa has cleaned a path then down the stairs toward the living chambers. The life saving systems should’ve been working, the smoke must’ve been led out, the electricity shut down but the air was stifling even in a mask, the wires were sparking on the floor, there was water leaking through under the bathroom door. The doors opened with difficulty and closed so hard they threatened to crush him like the whole building, Athena herself went mad.

Genji was found sticking out from a doorway lying on the ground, Zen above him trying to keep the two wings of the door open with his back and legs. His brother’s side was dented indicating that the door has crushed him at least once before.

Zen heard him coming, he signaled him he can’t hear, looked for a strong enough metal piece to halt the door. Only after that he crouched down to his brother. Genji looked up at him, but couldn’t get up due to the roof crushed down to his legs and lower back.

“Are you alright?” Genji took his hand squeezed it as an answer and he squeezed it back. “We’re getting out of here.”

The piece of metal shook above them, the black smoke got even thicker only the electric fire and sparkling wires giving any light, a thin layer of water covered the floor at places. He slammed a sonic arrow into the debris the waves showed him Genji’s body under the heavy weight. The images about Reinhardt’s crushed body flooded his mind, the death of his brother too, the dragon and for a moment he felt like he can’t breath, can’t move, the dragon roared so loud he wasn’t sure anymore his deafness comes from the explosion and not from the spirit under his skin.

It was talking to him, never liked Genji, talked faster than he could’ve understand, but he couldn’t freeze down now, not ever, a Dragon never hesitates, is never weak. His hands were trembling, but Genji was alive, it felt like the spirit was burning. He took a breath, Zen put his hand on his shoulder and he moved.

“I’ll lift this shit, you pull him out.”

They did that, he wouldn’t have been strong enough without the dragon - he was barely enough like this. Now he really felt how little was left of the spirit. Zen pulled his brother out, hugged him to himself. The armor on Genji’s legs were deformed making the younger man unable to walk but maybe it wasn’t too sewer otherwise. He pulled him onto his back to bring him out, Zen followed them a scarf wrapped around his face. The omnics didn’t breathe like humans but they needed air and the soot harmed them just as much as anyone else.

He led them the way he got in hoping Orisa and Bastion are all right and alive against the machine. He put down his brother to check. The first thing he saw though was Orisa’s lifeless metal body collapsed to the floor then one of the torn legs of the machine and the hole it shot for itself through the debris to wander further into the base. Bastion was the only one left standing there, who noticed him as he approached Orisa’s body. He only just realized the bullet holes on the omnic’s body were too small to come from the big machine when Bastion started shooting at him too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_They were sitting side by side on a wooden plank in Eichenwalde. The old tourist resort has been closed down since the omnic crisis due to the lack of money to renovate it and the respect of all the soldiers and knights who’ve died there._

_He knew Reinhardt has fought battles there from his files and the giant said so himself too on the way there. Talon used the place as a weapon traffic station and the old man took that as personal disrespect. The fight itself hasn’t been too dire thought: once he had to literally jump from his post at the top of the tower to save Rein from some sneaky bastards from the back just to be shielded from some rockets in return right after, then Bastion’s bullets chased the rest away. As he looked up at them man he laughed. They had it relatively easy the Talon heavy hitters not there._

_Now the fighting has been over for that day it seemed and they were waiting for extraction. Reinhardt took off his helmet, Torb and Brigitte were busying themselves with the turrets and armors. He has been working with them since eight months then. He was watching the many entrances of the corridors waiting for Jack to show up._

_He and Jack… now that’s been something he’s never expected._

_Reinhardt sighted beside him._

“ _Memories?” he asked offering him a bottle of water._

_The knight accepted it. “It’s not my first time here.” he looked around. Bastion saw them from the facing rooftop and beeped down to them waving. Reinhardt waved back. From all the old ones, who has fought and lost friends and loved ones in the war the knight has been the only one being welcoming toward the omnics in the team. He made a remark about that._

“ _I am, aren’t I? It’s not so strange, you’re okay with them too.”_

“ _I was young and the war’s never really hit Hanamura.” His grandfather has made great effort for that and even sheltered the omnics during and after when half of the world turned against them. It has been all for Kirishima and he wondered briefly whether she could be still alive._

“ _I did fought them, yes, and we lost great men and women in the war…” he looked back toward the old castle. “But I haven’t fought Bastion or Orisa, definitely not Zenyatta.” he shrugged. “Many like them, but time has changed hasn’t it? This soul thing… it happened and I can’t be mad at them. They were made to fight.”_

_It was the frightening thing about it, the robots of the army gaining consciousness, a soul, this virus like thing that changed the world forever. Robots which were made as weapons or as servants turned on their masters due to a terrorist virus then the infection turned into something so groundbreaking and the world still tried to make its peace with it. One of the concerns always have been how vulnerable they really are against it happening again. How alive, how equal, how acceptable they are. In case of the Bastion-likes it was even more difficult. They were called ‘limited’ on the kinder parts of the streets sold for parts on the others._

“ _I’ve never been political.” Reinhardt said. “That’s been Jack’s deal, Gabriel’s, Torb’s, Ana’s, the fiercest woman I’ve ever known. Winston had his problems if not on phone, you know, being a gorilla. It’s still easier to be an omnics than a gorilla.” he laughed but then shook his head. “I’ve never taken part in this, not in your things back then, not really in the Talon fights. I help who needs help, that’s my thing, be it human, omnic or something else.”_

_He liked this about Reinhardt, this pureness, easiness, basic human decency he showed. He reminded him a time and a mentality long lost or never even present. Listening to the old knight everything seemed easier, less complicated or painful. ‘You both sorry, then it’s settled, so just don’t look back.’ or ‘He will come around, you will come around, time is all you need and some good words.’ And the old man trusted him just as he trusted the man. He even told him some things about Hanamura._

“ _I’ll always come back to fight.” the knight said. “And you will too.”_

_It wasn’t phrased as a question although he himself wasn’t sure he would. He wasn’t sure he did, he gave up a fight once, not even one fight but many, he hasn’t come here because he had principles or a special motivation or anything really. He hasn’t fought for Hanamura and he wouldn’t fight for Overwatch. Reinhardt saw things in him that weren’t there, he wondered whether he should tell him that, but that would’ve made the giant of a man shook his head and grin just like every time before._

_It was the moment Jack appeared from the catacombs and nodded to him calling. He left Reinhardt to join the other._

“ _I did find something.” Jack motioned with his gun toward the catacombs. He seemed concerned. “What do you know about spirits?”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

He managed to not get shot by Bastion just barely. Tried to call out to him, calm him down, but it has been in vain. A very very bad hunch told him the omnic was lost. Lost to that whatever – the same thing that infected the whole base it seemed. The air system got worse too pushing the smoke back inside along with the smell of burning chemicals, the doors were kept open only because of the debris blocking them. A little less lucky and his brother and Zen would've been locked inside their room drowning till the water rose enough to reach the wires...

He called out to the other two to stay outside while trying to keep Bastion's attention on him. The omnic changed form to follow him any bit of playfulness or friendliness – that made him human-ish before - lacking now. All that's left was the weapon he was intended to be. He didn't want Zen to see this – but he still had no weapon.

Something blue fly above them in the black smoke, he just needed to occupy Bastion enough to... he banished the thought. The omnic changed form again now fired as a tank, parts of the remnants of the floors got loose as the heavy bullets hit them. He lost his footing and the cannon turned toward him. A Zen orb distracted the omnic just enough for him to get up and see as the weapon turns toward the place his brother and Zen were. Without thinking he run, got hold of a loose piece of roof as jumped yanking it down with his weight and fall at the other side as the bullet hit in the same time Phara's rockets shook the ground around them.

He moved only when the world calmed around them. Everything hurt, everything screamed, his thoughts swirled in cacophony he saw the paw of the dragon around his arm on the ground as he raised his head. He closed his eyes, tried to banish the picture. _Why are you so weak? Why are you so weak?_ Zen helped Genji up and the two of them managed to bring him out to Phara waiting them in the middle of the room above Bastion's body.

Bastion, Orisa, Torb, Brigitte, Reinhardt's hand still sticking out under the debris... _They are dead. All dead. And you did nothing, could do nothing._ He felt the claws of the dragon but that has been weak too, full of hatred, sorrow and contempt. _You're weak, made me weak, run away._ The dragon howled weak, dying. _What kind of guardian spirit is this?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

„ _Sojiro, what is a guardian spirit?” he asked the man who was holding him on his tight. He's never called him father, hadn't even known the word till Genji hadn't started to talk and even after that for a long time he thought it's somehow natural having nothing to compare._

„ _Where did you hear that?” the man asked. His tone turned guarded upon the question but the five year old child hadn't noticed tracing the colorful dragon tattoos on the man's arm. His baby brother was playing with a plush rabbit before them on the carpet._

„ _From grandfather.”_

„ _How many times had I told you not to bother the Old Man?”_

“ _I hadn't!” he looked up at last to the man. Truth be told he avoided the scary old man whenever he could, even his room or the kitchen where he could show up sometimes. He only visited him with Sojiro and even then he feared the stern, hollow looking man sitting in that chair with his illuminating eyes and skin. The Old Man looked down at him like he had many eyes, like he wanted to eat him._

_He has been terrified as his grandfather crossed the garden where he has been playing that afternoon, called him to himself, took his face into his hand._

“ _He told me the guardian spirit will spit me out if I stay this weak.” the man's arm tightened around him.”The others told that too.”_

_Now Sojiro seemed angry.”Listen to me, Hanzo! My descendant can't be weak, I won't let you be weak! On day you will sit in that chair of the Old Man, you will lead this family, keep them feared and in greatness or I will crush you, understand?”_

_The strictness in Sojiro's words saddened him.“But the lessons are so long, the sensei hits so hard with the sword... I don't want to be like grandfather!”_

“ _Ridiculous! It's an honor, boy, giving your life to the family is the most greatest present. Don't you dare bring shame on me!” Sojiro put him down, take Genji up from the carpet. “Come now, we take a walk on the walls!”_

  


_Sojiro’s never answered the first question about what a guardian spirit really is in his life, he even changed the subject or avoided the kid's gaze as he tried to ask again. Six years had to pass for him to understand why that was – and so much changed in that next two years..._

  



	3. Chapter 1 part 3 (Hanzo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter 1

They were sitting at another part of the base further away the flames and smoke. Genji's armor got damaged and although that made him unable to walk for now, his real parts suffered no injuries. Zen was fine too just like Fareeha and Angela not minding some minor burns and scars. He himself has not been that lucky but Angela's ministration helped: the bleeding stopped and his hearing returned mostly. Still he felt beaten – thought he assumed it’s just natural.

What happened reminded him of Hanamura, the destruction they made. He never wanted to see Overwatch burn, but this thing now, this reassembled new order, this bag of “agents” who quit too late, who came back to chase ghosts and past greatness, past home, past camaraderie, past family... so fucking stupid, so fucking ridiculous. They were blind and arrogant, all of them – okay, most of them – and now they died. He sighted. His head felt heavy, every move an effort against the dead weight of the dragon

They should’ve known. He should’ve known the moment Talon made him an offer.

“Thank you, Angela.”

“Macht nichts.” the doctor smiled. “Are you still hurting?”

“No, I'm fine really.”

“Don't be stubborn!” his brother crawled closer not being able to walk and sat beside him, took off his faceplate to grin.

He rolled his eyes. “You were damn lucky to be well enough to be able to peeve me.”

“Well, I’d known you would come for me so...” Genji shrugged still grinning. Even now it felt strange to see his face, the scars, made him feel something awful, remember those few years, that day, everything. He needed to learn to accept it, somehow make his peace, but he just couldn't, it was too much. Seeing Genji happy with Zen helped, but for him he could've been very well a stranger. One that irked him the wrong way – but of course that wasn't the whole truth either. “I wouldn't insult you with a thank you.”

That made him smirk too. Zen was watching them with satisfaction, but then asked the question swirling at the back of everyone’s mind:

“Do you think it's another Anubis virus?”

Another crisis, another god-program? That machine in the base, Bastion turning against them after fighting it, Athena and the base's systems acting strange – he's already explained everything he has seen in there to the others and he was sure they faced something like that indeed though didn't want to frighten the others, the situation seemed bad enough. Phara looked down at him as if waiting for the official statement.

“We have no reason to expect the worst yet.”

Phara visibly relaxed upon this. “I’ve been in the control room.” she told them. “Winston's dead, Athena MIA – “ her voice shook but continued firmly as ever. “The systems are off, security off, computers, everything. We can't stay here.”

“We wouldn't stay anyway.” he stood up. “McCree's out there in London.”

The others looked at him as they've expected the comment and he had to hold back the eye roll. They knew nothing, never did. He changed the subject.

“We don't have the time to chat, we should get everything we can from the computer then wipe the rest, get the others.”

They had three team out at the time: McCree, Lúcio an Hana have been in London, Zarya, Mei and Satya in Moscow and Jack, Ana and Lena just left one day to an unknown location. Unknown for most at least – ha just hoped Jack had nothing to do with this.

“Fareeha, you have access.” He didn't bother to phrase it as a question. He knew things, it was in his blood to pay attention, working somewhere else couldn't wipe out many years of conditioning. Still the captain seemed almost surprised. The need to be alone in a dark, noiseless room felt crushing just for a heartbeat then he made it pass.

“For emergencies.”

“I’m sure it qualifies.” Genji joked and for a second it seemed like Phara would shoot him.

“Our friends died in there!”

“I didn’t said anything wrong...”

“Show some respect, damn it!”

“Enough!” he stepped between them. He felt so damn tired and restless, they had no time, probably nowhere to go, he felt the whole great pointless world before him. They were leaving, leaving everything and everybody behind. Again. _How much can we lose before we lose our mind?_ Don't ask me to walk away again. “We did what we could. So just let’s get this over with…”

  
  


* * *

_He has been outside that afternoon too drinking some sake when Winston approached him on the terrace._

“ _May I join you?”_

_He nodded, the floor quaked as the gorilla sat beside him, adjusted his glasses. Winston seemed stressed, he hasn't been calm either, the mission that day had been a complete disaster. He offered him a drink._

“ _What happened today?” the gorilla asked._

_He groaned.“We did what we could, but miss Stubborn and Ignorant wouldn't listen. She's bled out in the ambulance. Would've been easier if she knew we were there to help. ”_

“ _Well, I couldn't...”_

“ _I know.” he interrupted. “I know you are still in hiding.”_

“ _We are.” Winston corrected looking down at him. “You belong here now.”_

“ _Bless my luck.” he lifted his cup as if he was making a toast. “The adults here all came back because of Reyes and Talon, because of personal vendettas, grudges or they had no life to live outside, not for some...” motioned around meaning this bigger than life for the order for the good hero factory. “They don't believe in anything anymore.”_

“ _And you are here for?”_

“ _Genji.”_

“ _That also seems personal. And just as good of a reason as any other.”_

_He shook his head, drank some sake, clenched his fist then let it out before asked._

“ _Why are you here Winston?”_

“ _Do you think it was Talon too?”_

_He snorted. “No, I don't think it was Talon. It was one of the militarists opposing her ideas and she thought herself invincible and bulletproof. Talon is not responsible for every shit in the world.” he shook his head, refilled for both of them. “I assume you'd talked to Jack.”_

_Winston winced. “Yeah, he threw a tantrum.”_

“ _It wouldn't be Jack...”_

“ _You could talk to him.” the gorilla offered carefully._

“ _Me?”_

“ _You seem to be the only one he can't stare or talk under the table.”_

“ _You mean I'm the only other Jack level asshole here.”_

“ _I've never said that.”_

“ _You don't need to, McCree reminds me all the time.”_

“ _He... needs time, but, you know, he doesn't despise you half as much as he shows.”_

“ _He does and he should. He has been there, saw it, lived it... He has every right to hate.”_

“ _You knew?”_

“ _That McCree and Reyes are in the city to kill me and destroy my family? Of course I knew, would've been a pretty bad Dragon if I hadn't had.” He has been a really bad one anyway though, so... Winston looked embarrassed though, was scratching his neck looking anywhere but at him. What happened in the past was still a sensitive topic among the agents who lived through it, he never assumed there will be a time it won't be one. He sighted. “I'll talk with Jack for you.”_

_He already stood and turned his back when the gorilla said his thank you. But couldn't leave the roof before he called after him._

“ _Hanzo!” He turned. Winston has stood up too was watching after him. “I think we can do this right, gain back the trust of the people, do some good. I believe in the people here.”_

“ _I know.” he turned and hoped for Winston's and the youngster's sake that it will we enough._

  
  


_It wasn't._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Phara flew them up to the control room. The destruction here hasn't been that great, although the roof got nonexistent, the windows broke; the fire couldn't reach the room up to that point. Winston's body was lying down there in the ground floor covered with the roof. He has been grateful not to see it. Winston had a special place in Overwatch, he was like the optimism and team spirit bringing these bunch of assholes forward and he’ been among the few he couldn’t really blame for the renewed organization despite it all starting with the gorilla being lonely. Maybe he just knew that too well – even if he himself couldn't ever really be alone.

As Reinhardt used to say: it was hard to be a gorilla. He wished he could've had a better end.

The huge monitors Winston used was still working at least, Athena's emblem rotating at the corner even if they couldn't call in the A.I. Fareeha pushed a few buttons, the Helix emblem moved to the front, but the connection didn’t come. She tried again with the same result. The monitors blinked alarmingly, every order got performed with difficulty, Athena’s attention was elsewhere.

“Might be our system, try the satellites!”

Phara looked up gratefully, not because of the advice but because he wouldn’t write down her team so easily. The satellite pictures didn’t confirm him though: the Helix Headquarter was burning, black smoke was reaching for the sky just like here. Phara’s hand was trembling, but her voice stayed firm.

“It can’t be.” She changed the channels frantically: Vishkar Utopea, Helix, Kairo, Washington, Brussels, Moscow, London… On a world map all the hits were shown: almost three hundred at the same time, the remaining broadcasters were reporting about omnics marching on the streets shooting down every living thing on their path all across the world.

Not three decade has passed since the last one, most of the world was still suffering the consequences: millions were left without a roof above their heads, there were slums where once great cities stood, the civil wars and terrorist attacks happened at places where the situation couldn’t be mend the problems reaching far deeper than a treaty or legislation could’ve repaired it. And now in just a few hours it happened again, worse than before.

Wires sparkled around them, the sun set outside leaving only the monitors and the flames to illuminate the room.

“I don’t…” Phara started then just motioned toward the monitors. She was one of the strongest woman he knew and now even she couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t move his gaze from the images of the burning London. “I need to get to the Helix, find where it came from.”

“Good, then Angela’ll drop me off at London then you wherever.” He wouldn't go without McCree.

“My mother is out there.”

“She can take care of herself, we’ll look for them if we’ve found a place to bring them.”

The captain nodded slowly, downloaded the emergency files and most important documents from the computer then entered her password and wiped off everything else. As Athena’s emblem disappeared from the corner they just stood there, watched their reflection on the now black monitors. Fareeha turned to him, pushed the driver to his chest.

“Find them! Just find them, okay?” She turned to hide her face and sorrow.

This was the time to say goodbye. Again. He wondered if it really has felt almost like home at the end, wondered if he would’ve liked really liked the others with a little more time. The dragon moved under his skin, scratched and fought. He wondered if what happened will kill it at last.

_But anyone else among your ancestors could’ve saved it._

 

 

* * *

 

 

“ _You have to find my son!” Sojiro technically attacked him as he set foot into the ‘throne room’._

_He let out a deep breath only mentally, never had the leisure to show his emotions, not because of the dragon but because Genji’s father used them against him every single time given the chance. He has been nineteen that time – almost seven years’ passed since the death of his grandfather and three since he’s lost his legs – and still had hardly any progress in the black room. That was impressive and unfortunate in the same time._

“ _I’m sure Genji is fine.”_

“ _It’s your damn job to protect this family! My son hasn’t come home tonight so you move, do as I say and bring him back! If anything happened to him…!” Sojiro threatened. One would think a man like that wouldn’t have power over a man like him and in any normal situation that would’ve been true. His life was so far from fucking normal... The tiredness pulled him down as if a weight was tied to his every single muscle, his head hurt, skin hurt, he just got free from there after four days of conditioning and he wanted to meditate, he needed to just to shut out the silence and the feeling of that thing, that whispering, or just sleep in is bed for hours. It was four in the morning._

“ _That’s all you can do? This is all this family means to you? Our deeds? Our history? The life of your master’s son?”_

_Sojiro never hit him but he could as well, tough it really hadn’t mattered anymore at that point. He gave up so much already without any progress to show in return, the things he could blackmail him with was waning with an alarming speed. Genji always had been one of those…_

“ _I will bring him back.” he bowed. “Shimada-sama” he added for Sojiro expecting chin raise._

_Back then just a few months before he liked to go after Genji into the city. He hasn’t been closed up exactly, but mostly there was a docents of guards around him outside missions. It hasn’t been because he needed protection and only on missions or at times like this could he leave without them following. The first times he needed literally escape them, not to lead them to his brother’s hiding place then Sojiro stood up and ordered them back directly. It has ever been the only thing he could thank the Master of the House._

_Recently though he got tired of it. The buzzing streets, pulsating, colorful, loud nightlife, people everywhere who he haven’t had to kill, make a deal with, get to know to use them... Not so long ago he could make himself believe he could be somehow part of this. He got out sometimes too, wandered in the city, drank some sake, had some fun sometimes with Genji, sometimes with others. But lately he realized he doesn’t envy Genji anymore. His path led elsewhere and the memories about the life outside tortured him in the silence and darkness more than the dragon ever could._

_He has chosen this, had his piece with it, he just felt… so tired sometimes. Like there was always blood on his hand._

_He checked all the places Genji favored from the exclusive-expensive to the filthiest shithole the city had to offer. He knew most of the places, but not all, his brother hasn’t trusted him the way he did before he had lost his legs, or really, before he said yes to the family._

_Sometimes he wished he would’ve never know anything else outside silence and darkness._

_Genji was found in a shabby pub lying on a desk in drunken stupor, high as a kite, naked from the waist down with sex marks and other stains. The waiter there told him his brother bought the place just an hour before he knocked himself out. He had no more money at him when he checked his jacket. He payed the staff, dressed his brother, gently took him up, brought him to the old, silent doctor to he always brought him to be sobered up and checked for HIV and other STDs. Genji grabbed his clothes as he helped him up again._

_He brought him home, put him to bed, sat beside him to make sure he'll be alright, watched the sunrise from his brother's room. It felt like nothing happened and really whatever happened in the end it always seemed like nothing happened at all._

 

* * *

 

  
For now Phara was in the cockpit of the Aurora, Angela beside her, Genji and Zen in the cargo hold holding hands. They were listening to the news as the situation got worse outside with every minute and Angela turned it off as one of the stations got attacked and the aether got filled with screams, cries and begging. Since then they’ve been sitting in silence.

He was standing at the end of the plane, looking out of the small window to the flames dancing all around their late headquarter. Working with Overwatch had been such a sick joke from the start and still... Personal, like Winston said. They should've known, should've been prepared, but they were too occupied with the personals. Slowly the fire disappeared in the distance, he had to sit, tried to meditate but the chaos was too great in his soul. Genji crawled to him again, concerned this time.

“It's worse, isn't it?”

“It will pass.” Genji tried to put his hand on his as reassurance but he pulled away. “Not now.” Darkness engulfed them, the only light came from the control panel of the Aurora. There were no stars out there and he felt too empty to feel anything just numbness and the trashing-howling of the dragon. There was no fight anymore. He just hoped they arrive to London in time.


	4. Chapter 2 part 1 (McCree)

He held the young girl's body strongly to his chest keeping her head and legs up, trying to hide and protect her bending over the small body, shielding it with his own back from the flames and bullets. Hana as like a sister, a favorite, spoiled little flower, a ball of energy and wit he adored. Love made everything more desperate.

London was on fire. The whole King’s row district was burning: black, suffocating smoke blinded and choked him, his throat burnt from the torrid air and red soot. There were no streets, no directions, just stumbling from abandoned wreck to blood filled wreck, screams and death. Bullets tore the windscreens with the people behind them and the hoard left them there to rot. Many were still alive bleeding out inescapably and even more were lying on the streets on the pavements, roadways among the wreckages. He stepped over them, faltering in almost every damn one his leg not working the way it should’ve and he fell girl first to a car. Hana didn’t even budge and he prayed to whatever it may heard him for the life of the girl.

The city was crying around them: deafening sirens, people and kids screaming; the constant echoing weapon fire and the rumble of the machines crawled itself into his skin. A tower collapsed somewhere not far enough and he felt lost, running only from memory, not even recognizing the places he should’ve been familiar with.

Thundering steps: a marching army and the jarring sound of crawler tank from the crossroad. Bleeding survivors were fleeing from them, but a fusillade took them down. He ducked behind a remnant of  wall, once a shop, already broken down by an artillery.

"It’s all fine, fairy, I'll getcha outta here." he pulled Hana closer gently, leaning black flat to the wall. Wanted to calm down the girl, but the thin body was limp in hi arms an he was the one crying. Blasted city, damned...  A self-propelled tank ran at the other side blasting buildings with thunders, shaking the ground around them, the rumble of the collapse almost overwhelmed the screams of the people still in them. He closed his eyes, hands shaking, eyes burning and something hurting like nothing for a long time. But Hana couldn’t die there, not like those people around them.

The tank forced its way through the debris, simply running over soldiers and civilians on its way. The tearing screams of pain and fear weren’t new, but it clenched his chest the same, the dust in the air made him gasp for air but the sharp splinters bruised his throat. The screams and cries came from everywhere, as if he was surrounded by the hell his mother talked about so much, the place to where he was sure to go. Only the omnics were silent, mute since it began, not saying a word just reaching for a gun, like a button was pushed, everyone in the same time, in a middle of a joke, between to laughs and the next thing he knew armies were marching, part of the city massacring everything else: not looking, not hesitating, unable to care.

The second fucking god program. The second fucking omnics crisis.

The tank's gun fired to the buildings again; the former inhabitants of the omnics ghetto were running forth at both of its sides like a flood sweeping through the countryside, gunning down the injured, looking for any sign of life not dying yet. It was the London Uprising all over again, but this time the omnics had the tanks, helicopters, cameras, and peacekeeping armaments at their side. In a time when nobody was expecting revolts.

The tank's cannon was tearing bites from the walls, the towers shook, dust and shards fluttered, many screamed. Coughing he squeezed Hana's small body closer. He spoke to her, but the kid didn’t respond only with some small moves that could’ve been the trick of his imagination. The omnics were searching just a few steps away on the other side.

Hana could’ve been dead, could’ve been somebody else. He was frightened, horrified, but whatever happened, whoever’s damn body he was sheltering, he couldn’t left her behind now. Running in circles with a dead kid in a warzone...

“We ain’t give up so easy, baby girl, ain’t we?”

Something, somewhere felt badly hurt.

The tank and the omnics troops departed, the cannon of the tank swept above him and the remainder of the wall, he flattened to the ground, playing dead with a dead girl among the debris. Thundering footsteps passed by next to him, one circling the remnant of the wall he was hiding behind, stopping above them. A heartbeat, two, a gun not heard just felt, but he was faster almost screaming out with the shot from the pain in his shoulder. The omnics, civilian, a fucking shopkeeper with a mortar and blank eyes fell over before him with a hole in the chest. He aimed for the head. The marching others didn’t stop, the sound of the shot was eaten up, by the roaring fire and clunking steps echoing long still after the group left. He opened his eyes to dead bodies lying around just a few feet away, a young woman's open eyes stared at him, blinking, but belly open intestines on the floor like cauliflower.

He grabbed Hana again and ran in the opposite direction, holding the girl with one hand supporting himself on the wall with the other being too weak and injured to run again leg giving up on him in every other step. No memories about what happened with it in the turmoil.

“Ain’t no leg stoppin’ me never.”

And even if it didn’t, it tried with every step making him running with his side on the wall. A bullet banged into a wall close to him, in the line of his head if his knee haven’t gave up on him in that moment.

He got up and run avoiding the omnics, the noises, the people who were looking for shelter in panic. A bomb echoed somewhere in the alleys and he closed his eyes and took some big breaths. There wasn’t time to losing it. Not no. They were not far away.

They turned to calmer streets, typical London once, disaster now: pavement torn, wreckages all over, corpses among them and on the fences separating the apartment’s stairs, bullet prints on the houses. There was only one street lamp left, smoke swirling in the air like snow. He climbed up on one of the short stairs, Hana like a ragdoll on his shoulders, shaking his key with trembling hands, trying to find the hole in the dark, scratching the lock, roaring inside. The majority of the omnics could seen in the dark, the military things had no eyes, the public lighting was switched off, the moon was covered by the black smoke of the flaming city… and he was in the middle of a warzone with a kid. The smell of burned meat  made him swear.

He listened, but nothing outside his heart could be heard in his vicinity. The lock opened, he stepped inside a ringing staircase, closed the door, climbed up to the third floor teeth clenched and tried to break the door over and over with his body, ‘til he realized he had to open it. He retrieved the keys again.

It was a simple flat, abandoned for years: a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, living- and dining room together. Lena lived here before moving to her girlfriend, now serving as a shelter, an Overwatch safehouse: cameras, direct link to Gibraltar and Switzerland, TV, radio, full refrigerators, first aid kits... He stumbled into the bedroom, put the little girl’s body onto the bed. There was dark in there, he didn’t saw anything.

"Hana," he touched the girl’s arm and felt wounds. "Hana" touched her face but didn't felt hair where there should have been only scars. Did she breath? He didn’t hear it so ceased to breath in panic and would’ve drowned just to know for sure she was alive.

She was or at least there was someone in the room who breathed but was injured badly. There must’ve been some bandage, disinfectant, painkillers somewhere... There was no electricity. He looked for a flashlight at the living room, got the first aid kit, took the flashlight in the mouth and examined the girl's body.

Burnt. Badly. Huge part of the body is no more than red and black meat, his clothes protecting some places melted into the skin at places and her neck, face, hair, eyes... Too severe, too bad and he wasn’t a doctor. Lúcio could’ve helped her but the dj was dead with a bullet in his forehead, killed by their omnics contract helping them rile up some problems in the ghetto. Or as they thought.

He disinfected as much he could with a sprayer, which helped to close the skin, but his knowledge stopped there. Hana didn’t move and was paralyzed by fear and shock. The screams and the burning of the city got excluded by the soundproof glass, but he still heard it. _Felt it_ _ **.**_ The omnics could’ve caught up to them in any moment, an artillery could destroy their building in any second. The danger haven’t passed.

He just stood there, stared at the tiny body helplessly until he couldn’t stand it, fled to the living room, pulled the picture off the wall, slammed into a corner, ripped up the door behind it to reveal the communication panel under. Pushed the alarm and the satellite phone.

“ Gibraltar!”

His voice was shaky and rough. “Gibraltar! Winston! Jack! Gibraltar, for fuck sake! Say something! It’s war here, they died, I can’t...”

There was no line, no connection, no answer. The fright caught up to him, he bashed the panel again and again with his fist.  “For fuck sake…”

He wanted to go back to Hana, but his leg gave up at last and he collapsed to the floor. Then he was sure he was crying.

 

* * *

 

## 

_They were having lunch and he felt like something between a babysitter and a bodyguard with Hana's and Lúcio's fans around. Despite the DJ wearing a mask during all his concerts the kids recognized him an instant and Hana... Hana has been always damn popular despite living in an underground base most of her time. The phones were on them all day but onlookers were far enough for them to converse in peace._

“ _So?” Lúcio leaned back. “What's the plan bossman?”_

_He smiled, made a move like tipping his hat although he wasn't wearing it in the restaurant. “Well, we'll talk to them.”_

_It was about the reemerging omnic conflict in London. There have been murders, revenges to said murders and now they were there to mend what can be mend. When he got the mission his first instinct was to go there, gather the troublemakers maybe shoot them if they don't cooperate, but just the thought left a bad taste in his mouth despite doing these kinds or worse jobs in the last decade. This should've been different. Like Hanzo's told him... it shouldn't damn matter what that asshole said – or how he said it._

“ _Simple and friendly, I like it.” Lúcio was drumming a rhythm on the table only he heard in his head._

_This should've been fine, this should've saved the most lives, this should've been the right way, he felt it, but he still felt nervous and stressed. His best intentions and plans just never worked out the way intended... he caused so much harm. Like it was a curse following him as a punishment for what he'd done back then. This has been the reason Lúcio was there, the heart of the group, the frog kid with the patience and optimism he's lost along the years. He liked to work with the kids even if he hated to be the leader and the shot caller in any situation. Bad decisions, worse consequences. This mission though seemed fine, they would take the safe way, talk and work it out slowly and carefully. He had no patience for that, but Lúcio did._

_It's a shame that that evening when they were consulting with the friendly omnics like the air itself froze for a second, everybody from them fell silent, ceased to move just to right in the next second guns be pointed at them. The first shot hit Lúcio in the head before any of them could understand what was happening. Other bullets were fired and they run but on the streets they met the same thing. Hana's meka was shot, the omnics caught her, the self destruct activated, the meka burned, but it didn't opened in time, saw Hana screaming inside. He teared the machine open literally to get the kid, shooting down anyone in his way, but it has been late, the inside was burning, Hana was burning and the thing exploded right after they turned the corner._

_London turned into a warzone, into hell less than ten minutes._

 

* * *

## 

He heard a soft noise from the balcony, a key snapping, the soundproof glassdoor opening giving way to the sound of the flames, the smoke and blood. The burning of the distant dwellings outlined the arriving silhouette against the black room. He would've recognized that man everywhere.

“Course you’ve ta be the one comin’” he said gruffly as Hanzo closed the door behind him.

“You were smart enough to come to the safe house.” the archer sounded relieved, though his face was covered by shadows, so he couldn't be sure. One could never know with Hanzo.

“'M...” He loathed this man something intense, everything he had done, everything he meant, every damn word that left his mouth and felt so darn relieved he was there he could cry. He didn't though. “Did y’all get m message? Phone ain’t working so…”

“No.” Firm and cold as ever. “Where are the others?”

“Hana’s in the bedroom, Lúcio…” He couldn’t say he’s dead, that he left him lying on a pub’s dirty floor with open eyes and a hole in the forehead, but Hanzo knew, he's always knew these things. He took a phone out of his pocket, somehow there was always one more pocket on that bloody haori.

“I’ve found them Angela, two of them. Lúcio is dead.”

And it was his fault. The frog kid with the music and the optimism… he felt the sticking of tears but swallowed them. Hanzo’s voice sounded cold, distant, without emotions like a rock or the beast he was, like in that first year when he joined them at Gibraltar. He was so different when he talked to others, laughed with Reinhardt, walked with Jack, cold with him because he knew who the archer was: a lying, perfidious psychopath. A damned killer.

“We’re at Lena’s, pick us up as soon you can and call me when you get the message!”

The phone was back in the pocket, and he was still staring at Hanzo's dark feet in the dark room, out of his dark head. Somewhere in the depths of his soul he knew he was in shock. He wished this would be one of _those_ times, even if it's a lie every time, even if he will feel sick after, he needed...

“Jesse…” the archer’s concerned voice came from closer now. He stood just above him as he looked up though he hardly could see anything but silhouette.

“Hana’s got burned.”

“Show me!”

He nodded trying to stand, but the pain in the knee stopped him. It throbbed, felt weak, painful, unable to carry his weight, unable to move. Maybe that has been the one hurting he couldn't tell anymore, but as he looked down there was blood on the floor.

“Jesse…”

“M fine.” But he wasn’t, his leg didn’t move, he was incapacitated in a warzone.

“I'll check Hana and come back.”

“Yeah, I'll just...” But Hanzo wasn't there anymore. He saw the light of the flashlight, heard talking, steps, running water from the bathroom. Closed his eyes in relief the arched was there then crawled carefully toward the bathroom not to damage his leg further. Hana was already in the bath when he got there, could see the top of her head above the edge: the burned skin, missing hair. Black at the light of the flashlight.

Hanzo stepped over him coming back with towels.

“Ya undressed her.”

“Obviously."

The archer wrapped some ice in the towels, pushed it against Hana's burned face, he too remembered something about cooling the deeper tissues and felt useless again. Why hadn't he acted sooner, why couldn't he be ready enough, why it had to be Hanzo with his cold and methodicality. Such a bullshit...

“Since when are you here, McCree?”

“Dunno.” He felt weak, his mind foggy, there was blood on the floor.

”Since when?”

“I don’t know!”

“Since when?" Hanzo raised his voice at last: firm and decisive, grabbing his shoulder.

“One hour, two, less. Maybe. ‘N dontcha dare to touch me!” He pushed the hand away, but the fight left him as he glanced at Hana. One of her eyes was missing. “She's gonna die, right?”

“No, she won’t.” Firm as ever, made others believe, made him believe. When the world trashed him the archer was a pillar, one that he despised wholeheartedly even if...

Hanzo knelt before him, bind a shirt tightly around his thigh to stop the bleeding. He felt so shamefully useless. The archer let his hand linger on his leg just a moment longer, it was all the comfort he could bear.

“You shan't take responsibility for what's not yours to change. It's not your fight alone and you did everything you could.”

“You don't know that.”

Hanzo just huffed, took the still unconscious Hana out of the water.

 

* * *

 

_Only a few months after the recall and not even two weeks after he rejoined the team there was a terror attack in Paris. A covered Vhiskar research base had been the target, but the attackers gave little fuck about the collateral damage: a whole district got burned to the ground with many docents of people and omnics getting caught in the flames._

_It had been a Talon operation. Jack led the investigation, but hadn't said a world about it for days, for that exact day._

_He hadn't taken it too well, or rather took it almost the worst way possible: he drunk, drunk a lot, he always drunk a lot if already started. He staggered around the base with a bottle in hand, shoulder to the walls, at the brink of crying or shouting or throwing tantrums or just taking the Peacekeeper and shooting something, anything in anger, frustration and in the inability to do anything about what had happened._

_And he was looking. At that time he was already looking._

_So he ended up on the roof facing the ocean on that warm, sunny, calm afternoon where he too used to hide from the world back then but not anymore and he was not alone. As he expected. Hanzo was sitting there, leaning to the wall, long hair touching the shoulders, fluttering in the breeze. They didn't do the talking. At all. Only when it was necessary or bickering, or blaming, but on that afternoon he was drunk out of his mind, sad, angry and he was looking._

_Hanzo was sitting there calm, majestic like some terrible beast, eyes closed, enjoying the sun, the breeze. He was fucking beautiful and he didn't want to be there, didn't want to face him and would've retreated if the archer hadn't looked up at him in that exact moment._

“ _You stink.”_

_He couldn't argue that._

_Hanzo moved to tie up his hair and he stopped him before he could've known what he is doin'. “Don't!”_

_The archer looked up at him searching and he tried to look composed but he was drunk at the brink of his mind. He staggered, there was a bottle in his hand._

“ _It's a big roof McCree sure you can stink elsewhere.” When he didn't move Hanzo frowned. “You already drowned you ability to speak?”_

“ _Just fuck you...” he muttered. “Fuck you.” The world span, the sun shone and it was just so much. Too much._

_Hanzo got up, approached him, but he looked concerned and that was all he needed, the permit, the confirmation that he can come here, he can talk, he will be listened to. This was he first time, the only time, the one misstep. Anyone could make a bad decision. “So?”_

“ _It had been Gabriel.”_

“ _Your mentor.”_

“ _My father.” His hand tightened around the bottle. “We thought him dead, but he works for Talon, blasted a bomb in Paris.” His voice trembled, swallowed to make it stop. “I can't kill him too, Hanzo...” He cried, was too drunk to stop it or care. “I thought him dead but he's huntin' us down. And I can't kill him too. I don't... I can't...”_

_Hanzo was standing real close now, just a reach away, and he did that reach, pulled his hat into his face as if to hide the tears, hide the vulnerability. As if he knew he wouldn't want this, to be seen as anything than composed, anything than worthy especially in his eyes. Especially knowing that past between them. That hatred. That fight._

_But that afternoon he was drunk, he was there and he heard Hanzo, felt Hanzo, felt that understanding and power that brought the archer forward that he wished he could have himself._

“ _You don't have to be able, Jesse. You came back, you don't fight alone anymore.”_

_He just grabbed his cloths as answer and held onto him a for a very long time._


End file.
